


Home is Where You Find It

by RoonilWazlibMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 10:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22494493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoonilWazlibMalfoy/pseuds/RoonilWazlibMalfoy
Summary: After being released from Azkaban, Lucius had nowhere to go. He didn't want to burden his family, now free of the darkness of his decisions, and he wouldn't be welcomed by a world he had done such harm to.So Harry Potter, always a savior, offered him someplace to go.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 448





	Home is Where You Find It

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Hogwarts Facebook group story prompt challenge for January 2020. It is based on prompt 1: "A major protagonist gets trapped with a minor villain."
> 
> I'm pretty sure this isn't what she had in mind for that prompt, but shippers gonna ship, and I am nothing if not a shipper. Lol
> 
> The title is based on the song Bring It On Home by American Authors.

Lucius Malfoy was a shell of his formerly proud self. He sat in a cell in Azkaban, languishing away, cold, filthy, and in despair. His son and wife had not been sentenced, and for that he was truly grateful, but he knew they would never be a family again; he had done too much harm to them to ever be welcomed back into their lives, even after he was released. 

The dementors had been removed from the prison, the Ministry having decided after the war that they couldn't be trusted. And so it was that Aurors were placed in the prison as guards; not that they were really needed as far as Lucius was concerned. The prison was cold and dank, the dementors presence still lingered long after they were gone. It was a depressing place and Lucius couldn't imagine, his life being what it was, even attempting to escape or fight back. He merely lay in his cell under a thin blanket, hair matted and dirty, a scruffy beard gracing his once regal face. He rarely moved, save to eat what unappetizing gruel was provided for him twice a day. He just lay, shivering and thinking. He didn't know the hour, much less the date, and so he simply waited until the day a voice called out to him. 

"Malfoy?" the voice said, and Lucius raised his head and looked, bleary eyed, to the door of his cell. "Malfoy, it's time for your release. Come on."

Bewildered, Lucius stood up and followed. He was led to a room with a shower where he was allowed to clean himself and shave. He was presented with clothes and considered the irony of being so ecstatic to receive these worn robes, as ecstatic as his former house elf had been to recieve a filthy sock, and he vowed to do better, to be better. 

And then Potter was there - of course it was Potter - to lead him away from the prison, to take him in a boat away from the warded island, to apparate him to the Ministry. It was Potter who returned his wand to him, warning him that it was being monitored and informing him which spells he was allowed. And it was Potter who asked where he would be staying. 

"I don't," Lucius began in a broken voice, "I don't know."

Potter looked confused. Certainly not a new look on him, Lucius thought. "But won't you be going back to the Manor?" he asked. "Your wife and son are there."

"I know they are there, Potter. And that is why I won't be returning," Lucius said, resigned. "They deserve freedom from the memories I would reawaken. They deserve freedom from me after all that I've done."

Realization dawned in Potter's face and his green eyes softened. "Ah! Well," he started meekly, "you can stay with me then." 

"Potter, I don't need your help!" Lucius was aghast. "You, of all people..."

Potter had the nerve to smile at him as he placed a calloused hand over Lucius' thin fingers. "I think you do need my help, Lucius," he said softly. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

Lucius was torn. On the one hand, he was a Malfoy; of course he deserved all the chances and opportunities in the world. But the years he'd spent in Azkaban had stripped him of all of that pride, barring his immediate gut reaction. He looked at Potter's softly smiling face, his green eyes earnest, and saw only opportunity there - no pity - and he knew that he was utterly trapped with Harry Potter and the great hero complex. He hoped that he didn't regret this, but he had no other options. 

Alright, Mr. Potter," he said finally. "I accept your offer of assistance." The bright smile that Potter gave him then as he squeezed his fingers was proof to Lucius that he'd made the right choice. He decided not to think too deeply about that, unsure he'd appreciate whatever feelings were lurking inside his brain. 

Before Lucius fully had time to come terms with what was going on, he found himself standing on a grotty doorstep with Potter. The younger man was telling him something - was he warning him to be quiet? - but Lucius' thoughts were whirling as they stepped through the door into a foyer that was dark and dingy but, at the same time, seemed to exude wealth and magic. 

"Mr. Potter," he called. "Is this a pureblood ho-..." He didn't even get the words out before Potter's green eyes widened and the shrieking began. 

Lucius flinched and then froze, flashbacks of screaming inmates in a cold, dark prison infiltrating his brain, but after a beat he recognized the voice that was currently ranting about "filth and mudbloods." He straightened his back and raised his head, the very picture of pureblood aristocracy in spite of his thin face and worn clothes, and marched toward the portrait that was spewing forth such vitriol. 

"Madam Black," he said sharply, "what is the meaning of this?"

Finally the screaming ceased and he found himself being studied by the hag's cold blue painted eyes. He had never liked this woman. "Ah, Lord Malfoy," her harsh voice rang out and behind him, he heard Potter gasp. The boy probably had no idea this particular woman could even speak, having only heard her rant and scream before. "Will you be staying to cleanse the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black of the filth that inhabits it?" she simpered, her eyes gleaming as maliciously as a portrait's could. 

"Madam you are correct that I will be staying here for the foreseeable future and it would be in your best interest to keep quiet," he said harshly. "The other inhabitants of this house may be unaware of the methods, but I assure you that I do know how to get rid of you and I will not hesitate to do so if I hear your wretched voice again. The worst filth I've seen in this house is currently before my eyes," he gazed haughtily at her for a moment then, with a sneer, sharply closed the curtains around her and turned back to Potter.

Potter, who was looking at him with admiration tinged with glee. "Do you actually know how to get rid of her?" he asked. "I've been trying for ages!"

Lucius smirked, feeling more himself than he had in years. "Of course I do, Mr. Potter," he said smugly. "Mind you, it wouldn't do to have that sort of spell traced on my Ministry regulated wand. But I could certainly instruct you to do it."

"Brilliant," Potter breathed, and Lucius felt his pale skin blush under the proud gaze of the Saviour of the Wizarding World. 

And then the moment had passed and Potter was showing him around the ancestral Black home, informing him that he'd inherited it from his godfather, and apologizing for the state of things. It seemed that he didn't know how to rid the house of such darkness and Lucius began to feel that he could be of some use to the younger wizard. It certainly wouldn't hurt his reputation to cleanse and repair Harry Potter's home, of all things. 

Harry showed him to the room where he'd be staying and informed him that he'd provide clothes and food, whatever Lucius would be needing to get back on his feet. It did not escape Lucius' sharp mind that the Saviour had not put a time limit on this arrangement. He knew that, in the past, he'd have been quick to turn this situation to his advantage, but as things stood, he just found himself grateful for this kindness and respect in a world that surely had no use for Lucius Malfoy any longer. 

The weeks went by and Lucius made a lot of headway on cleaning and repairing Grimmauld Place. It was being quickly transformed from a dark mausoleum into an elegant, comfortable home. When the spells he needed were ones that were not Ministry approved, he instructed Harry on what to do and he found the younger man to be both quick to learn and highly capable. In fact, he found himself rather in awe of the raw power behind Potter's casting. It was clear that this man could easily have defeated the Dark Lord at any time - in fact he had done so with a mere disarming spell - and Lucius wondered how he could ever have been so wrong. 

But dwelling on such things served no purpose. Lucius simply resolved to never doubt Harry Potter again.

There were days that the two men spent working and there were days when they just spent time together quietly. Lucius found that there were hidden depths to Harry Potter, that he was darkness mingled with light, power wrapped in kindness and compassion. He understood now why so many revered the man and he didn't hesitate to admit, at least to himself, that he could now be counted in that number. 

There were also days when Lucius' snarky wit and pureblood elitism showed themselves. One day the two men sat down to dinner and Harry presented him with a plate of spaghetti bolognese. Lucius looked down at it disdainfully, saying "what sort of muggle mess have you made on this plate, Potter?"

Harry just smiled indulgently at him, though. "Try it, Lucius," he said patiently, as one would to a child. "You'll like it!"

Lucius sneered, but he tucked in and found that he did, in fact, like it. Quite a lot, if he was being honest. Not that Harry needed to know that. He calmly ignored Harry's quiet laughter when he helped himself to seconds, claiming that he had worked hard today and was simply hungry, never admitting that Harry had been right.

Months went by and Lucius was forced to admit that he had done all the work he could in Harry's home. He knew that it was time for him to move on and see what he could make of himself in the wizarding world, but he dreaded it. He had been met with acceptance and kindness in this home. He felt like he belonged. And he knew that the same would not be true in the greater wizarding world. But surely, with no work left to be done, he had worn out his welcome here. The Boy Who Lived did not need an ex Death Eater hanging around, taking advantage of his kindness, any longer. 

When he broached the subject with Harry, however, he was met with surprising resistance. 

"I'd really rather you didn't go, Lucius," he said in an almost pleading tone. "I've never felt at home anywhere since Hogwarts, but this... it feels like home with you here."

Lucius smirked. "Of course it does, Potter. It's clean and lovely now. There are no more elf heads or screaming portraits here," he said disdainfully. The Blacks had always had atrocious taste. "It's a home because we've made it yours, certainly not because I'm present," he told the other man. 

"I do love what we've done here, Lucius," Harry began. "But this home, my home... I think it's all you," he said. 

And then there were strong hands in Lucius' pale hair and firm lips pressed against his. He took a moment to process what was happening, what had been said. Harry was home with him. He was home with Harry. It was true that even Malfoy Manor had never felt so good, and looking down into soft green eyes behind ridiculous thick lenses, he recognized why. 

It was the power and the kindness, the spaghetti bolognese, the thousand odd moments spent teasing one another. It was respect and acceptance of his moods and his past. It was never being feared and never being judged based on a past that should never have happened, choices he never should have made.

He took control then, wrapping his arms around Harry's narrow waist and steering them breathlessly to the couch. He kissed the younger man deeply, pouring all of his gratefulness and all his of love for Harry Potter and second chances into that kiss. Harry kissed him back urgently and he could have cried with relief. How did this wonderful man always seem to know what Lucius needed, even when he didn't know himself?

After a long delicious moment, full of promise and hope, Lucius drew away gently and held Harry's dark face in his pale hands. "I'll stay," he promised. The words seemed too simple to contain the worlds of meaning behind them, but Harry understood and he smiled. 

That smile, even simpler than the words preceding it, was absolutely everything. Lucius Malfoy was no longer a shell of a man. Lucius Malfoy was home.


End file.
